Richie Rich has joined Jumbo Whiffy in the afterlife.
Thankfully, Rik prepared his catch-all obituary back in 1982. Smart guy.
RICK: Right. Hands up, who likes me!
[Rick throws both arms into the air, while the other three guys drop their hands to the floor]
RICK: DAMN! Right, that's it, I'm going to kill myself.
[He removes his belt]
RICK: Then you'll be sorry!
VYVYAN: No, we won't.
[Rips the tenner in half and gives one half to Mike]
[Rick has the belt around his neck and has climbed upon a chair. He is trying unsuccessfully to attach his noose to the ceiling]
RICK: I feel sorry for you, you zeros, you nobodies. What's going to live on after you die? I'll tell you -- nothing, that's what!
[Exasperated, Rick gives up on hanging himself and jumps down from
the chair. He grabs a large bottle of pills, shows it to the others, and
starts stuffing pills into his mouth]
NEIL: [sotto voce to Vyvyan] Vyv, Vyv, uh, can you, like, actually kill yourself with laxative pills?
VYVYAN: I don't know, Neil, but I'm going to stay and find out.
NEIL: I think I'm going up to my room for a bit...
[Runs upstairs, head down. Rick swallows some more pills defiantly at Neil's back.]
RICK: This house will become a shrine! And punks and skins and
Rastas will all gather round and all hold their hands in sorrow for
their fallen leader! And all the grown-ups will say, "But why are the
kids crying?" And the kids will say, "Haven't
you heard? Rick is dead! The People's Poet is dead!"
[Vyv starts hanging around looking expectantly at Rick's bum]
RICK: And then one particularly sensitive and articulate
teenager will say, "Why kids, do you understand nothing? How can Rick be
dead when we still have his poems?" Then another kid will say...
[Rick emits a long, loud fart].
[The camera zooms in suddenly on a box of matches on a shelf]
BOX: Don't look at me, I'm irrelevant.